


Eyes Wide Open

by ArtemisRayne



Series: The Beast of Brooklyn [3]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Disabled Character, Gift Fic, M/M, Magic, Missing Scene, Non-Graphic Violence, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:29:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23466136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisRayne/pseuds/ArtemisRayne
Summary: *Missing scene fromThe Beast of Brooklyn*PROMPT: "my weak jack/davey ass would commit multiple crimes to get just a little 500 words of davey seeing jacks face for the first time. just sayin."Even after being blind for more than a decade now, there is some tiny, distant part of Davey Jacobs that still opens his eyes in the morning and expects to see. That doesn't mean he's ready for the day it actually happens.
Relationships: David Jacobs/Jack Kelly
Series: The Beast of Brooklyn [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1857181
Comments: 11
Kudos: 118
Collections: I love these, THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH





	Eyes Wide Open

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jamb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamb/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Beast of Brooklyn](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15964118) by [ArtemisRayne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisRayne/pseuds/ArtemisRayne). 



> This was a prompt request that I promised to fill ages ago, and with the quarantine, I've finally had the time to sit down and start working on all these old shorts I promised to write. 
> 
> Hope it meets your expectations, love! And sorry it took me so long.

Even after being blind for more than a decade now, there is some tiny, distant part of Davey Jacobs that still opens his eyes in the morning and expects to see. It's the sort of truth he'll never admit aloud for fear of sounding pathetic - the last thing he wants is to give people _more_ reasons to pity him. There are times, though, in that hazy moment right after his alarm clock tugs him back to consciousness, when he will open his eyes and be confused by the nothingness. 

Then Davey jerks awake in a panic, mind racing with memories of gunshots and screams, and the nothingness is replaced with white. 

Breathing heavily, Davey squeezes his eyes shut again. This can't be happening. How hard did he hit his head? Jesus, is he dead? If so, death really sucks because he still hurts like Hell, and that's not fair. 

No, wait, he can still feel the heavy tape clinging to his face and wrapped around his wrists. There's still warm tacky heat on his hands - Jack's blood. Oh, God, where's Jack? Did they find out he's not really dead?

Davey shoves aside his panic and forces his eyes open again. At first, he sees nothing but a vague whiteness. Davey blinks a few times, and the white shifts a little, varying depths and hues. A faint shadowy line where two depths join and-

The ceiling. 

The realization takes Davey by surprise when it hits him. It's not a vast white haze he's seeing, it's the ceiling, smoothly transitioning into the wall. Memories of seeing things like this are so distant in his past he's struggling to fuse them with now. All of it, of course, on the backburner to the incredulous thought that he's _seeing_ anything at all.

Despite his best attempts, the panic is refusing to stay away, gnawing away at his edges. Davey's heart pounds in his ears as he wriggles, casting his somehow-not-blind eyes around for something familiar. Anything familiar, anything that makes sense. Anything that will make him feel less like he's going insane because oh God, he can't breathe, what's happening, why-?

Tossing his head to the side, something much closer than the ceiling appears, and Davey jerks back in alarm. The shape is still blurred and indistinct, but that doesn't hide the fact that it's a face. A man's face that's unrecognizable beneath all the blood. 

A frantic noise bursts out of Davey as he shoves himself away from the bloodied figure, his shoulder slamming hard into the wall. He abruptly remembers the tape on his mouth, and Davey fumbles with his bound hands to tear the tape off. Somehow it's not any easier to breathe. 

Davey tries to get up, makes it halfway before the explosion of pain from his probably-cracked ribs jerks a pitiful scream from him, and he crumples again. Curled on his side, he's facing the mysterious bloodied person. Who is-? When Davey lost consciousness, he was next to Jack. So does that mean this man with his face smashed in is-?

"Jack!" Davey shrieks, terrified. He makes to move closer to the person this time, getting as far as onto his knees before the world pitches around him, and he collapses sideways into the wall. If this person's Jack, why isn't he moving? Did Wiesel find out Jack wasn't dead and finish the job? Oh God, if Jack's dead-

"Dave!" 

The shout comes from the other direction, and the awareness of it washes over Davey like a blanket. After the last year, Jack's voice is recognizable as his own. "Jack," Davey gasps out, but he can't manage anything louder. He can't breathe. His ribs feel too tight, his body shaking so hard he can't seem to get it to respond to his orders. All Davey can do is slump against the wall at his back and listen hopefully to the pound of footsteps coming closer and closer. 

"Davey?" Jack sounds terrified. Shivering, Davey tips his head in that direction. Everything is still blurred and undefinable, impressions of colors against colors. Over the backdrop of the white wall, there's a towering shape that changes gradient going upward from blue to black to pink. There's also a large amount of red around the edges. "Davey, God, you okay?" 

Still struggling to breathe, Davey makes a soft, panicked noise. Why is this happening? What's wrong with him? Davey squeezes his eyes shut against the unintelligible mess of disorienting colors and shadows. This can't be real, this can't be right. 

Then there's a large, warm hand cradling Davey's cheek tenderly. "Hey, Davey, it's okay, it's just me," Jack says. "You're gonna be okay, I promise. It's over. Just breathe, yeah?"

And the traitorous lungs that wouldn't obey Davey's orders abruptly decide they've got a new boss because as soon as Jack says it, Davey takes a deep, shuddery breath. Then another. And another. And then, the exhale that follows is a sob. 

"Shh, it's okay, Davey, you're safe," Jack says soothingly, palm warm and steady against Davey's jaw. A thumb sweeps soft across his cheekbone. "It's over. Just breathe, I gotcha." 

_Please let things be normal. Please don't let me be going insane. I need to calm down. I need to be strong right now. My family needs me._

Davey forces his eyes open again, and all of the progress he's been making to breathing normally comes to a screeching halt. The nothingness is still gone, replaced by the smudges of unfamiliar colors. There's a face less than a foot from his, and from this distance, it's all less blurred. 

The man has a strong jaw and high cheekbones. His skin is a soft golden tan, currently marred with bright red smears (of blood, oh God, that's so much blood.) Brown hair is a chaotic mess over his brow, and his _eyes..._ Fixed solely on Davey, those eyes are a deep, captivating brown that Davey doesn't even know how to describe, brimming with emotions that Davey doesn't know how to recognize anymore. 

Voice catching, Davey breaths out a plaintive, "Jack?" 

Lips slanting up on one side, the man nods and brushes his thumb gently over Davey's cheek again. "Yeah, Dave, it's me, you're okay," he assures. "Here, lemme get that tape off-" Jack pauses, his brow furrowing, and he suddenly tightens his grip on Davey's cheek. Leaning in, he stares at Davey's eyes, and Davey can see the moment he realizes that Davey's staring back. "Jesus, Dave, you- are you-?" 

"I can see you," Davey confesses with a sob. "I don't - I don't know what's happening, but-" He trails off and tentatively lifts his bound hands, tracing the outline of Jack's jaw with his fingertips. "Jack, I can _see_ you." 

Jack lets out an incredulous breath, seemingly unable to take his gaze away from Davey's eyes. "How-?" He cuts himself off and shakes his head. "We'll - we'll figure this out, okay? Uh, lemme help with that tape." Jack scratches awkwardly at the tape, finally getting his nails beneath the end and starting to unwind it. 

As Davey watches, he notices Jack's only using one hand, the same one he'd been cradling Davey's jaw with too. Frowning, Davey lets his gaze slide down from Jack's face to his shoulders. He can't see the bullet wound that he'd felt earlier, the black fabric absorbing any sign, but there are thick, smeared ribbons of scarlet down his bicep and elbow. 

"Your arm?" Davey asks uncertainly. 

"I'll be okay," Jack says hastily. "It just don't wanna cooperate right now. Bullet's still in there, so I'm not gonna bleed out any time soon." He tugs the last of the tape off Davey's hands, balling it up and throwing it aside. Davey flexes his hands, fingertips tingling as the circulation slowly returns. 

Jack sits back on his heels, apparently already moving on to other things, but Davey pushes up onto his knees to follow. The way the colors spin around in his peripherals is distracting, and Davey wavers for just a moment before he reaches out to catch Jack. The other man freezes, glancing at Davey in surprise, but he doesn't pull away when Davey cradles his face in his cold palms. 

This is Jack. After a year of knowing each other, of only guessing at what he could look like - _this_ is Jack. Davey never imagined in his wildest dreams that he'd ever get to see the face of the man he's been yearning after for the last year, but here he is. Awed, Davey delicately outlines the features of his face, matching them up to what Davey's only ever felt in the past. 

As if guessing where Davey's mind has gone, Jack smiles kindly. "Nice to finally meet you face to face, too, Dave," Jack says affectionately. His expression shifts into something almost rueful - self-deprecating, maybe, judging by the tone of his voice when he adds, "Hopefully, the real thing isn't a disappointment." 

And it's just another one of those moments that reminds Davey why he fell for this guy so quickly - that he can be so beautiful and still think he's not good enough. "You're an idiot," Davey says, more fond than he means for it to be. He doesn't know how he's able to see at all, doesn't know how long this strange miracle might last, but the chance to finally see Jack Kelly for real isn't something he's going to regret. 

There are other things right now that need their attention, though, and Davey pushes his awe aside to focus. Looking around the room, he only makes out two other shapes that seem to be people. Which leaves at least three people unaccounted for. "The kids, are they okay?" Davey asks anxiously. Jack's face goes flat, lips drawn into a grim line, and Davey's heart freezes. "Jack, where're Race and Spot?"


End file.
